A Life Vignetted
by swAhILi2011
Summary: A series of music-based one-shots from my fanfics based off of Kira and those friends and family that surround her. Basically a way to tell the pasts and struggles of many characters including Kira,Courfeyrac,Feuilly,Yuki et al. Rated T for L,V. Some M.
1. Sorrow

A/N: One of my series of one-shots, this one focusing on Courfeyrac, which is rather interesting since I usually don't get to delve into his character very much in my stories. This story is rather depressing, though. ;A;

Courfeyrac and 'Ferre are M. Hugo's, but the storyline here is entirely mine.

**"Sorrow"**

_Sometimes life seems too quiet  
Into paralyzing silence  
Like the moonless dark  
Meant to make me strong_

Nicolas Jean de Courfeyrac was very excited. For the first time in almost two years, he would be spending a couple of weeks with his older brother. Ever since Gautier had left for Paris, he had rarely returned home. He claimed to his parents that he was simply busy with schoolwork, but in confidential letters to his younger brother, he had revealed the true reason for his absence. His brother, upon reaching the city and living among the horrors and disgraces of the city, decided to join in a new common student group. It was an anti-monarchist group, and Nicolas knew that his brother was certainly going to be in a huge amount of trouble if their ever-royalist father found out. But Nicolas could keep a secret; for his favorite brother, he always could.

"Nicolas!"

He perked up when he saw his older brother walking up to him as he sat on a bench in the Luxembourg that they had arranged as a meeting place. Gautier smiled fondly, ruffling his brothers black hair.

"It just keeps getting longer. You should probably cut it, _mon frère_, or Maman may have a fit."

"I like it this way" The fifteen year old pouted. "I hope soon it'll be long enough that I can pull it back into a ponytail."

"You are such a dandy." Gautier chuckled, and Nicolas scowled.

"I am not! I'm going to be like you, you know. Next year, Mama and Papa are even going to send me to Paris for school."

"So you finally convinced them; that's great." Gautier smiled. "Your friend Combeferre is attending school here as well, is he not?"

"He's attending some specialty Med school, last I heard. But he's an entire year and a half older than me, so he got to go earlier."

"You aren't lonely, I hope?" Gautier asked concernedly. "I'm sorry I couldn't stay home with you…"

"Oh, no, it's fine. I still have Julien Enjolras, and Jacques-François, I guess. Although Jacques' too whiny most times."

"Is that any way to speak of your younger brother?" Gautier grinned, "At least the two of you get along. I was a bit worried about it when I left."

"You needn't worry about me. I'm quite able to take care of myself, Gautier; I'm almost sixteen already!"

"Almost sixteen already?" Gautier said, amazed. "Time sure flies on by, doesn't it?"

"Indeed it does." Nicolas smiled. "It seems like just yesterday we were two little rascals, running along the beach, wreaking havoc on the others."

"Those were good times, indeed." Gautier ruffled his brothers hair again, and Nicolas swiped at his hand.

"Stop that! I'm not a kid anymore!"

"Indeed, you're not…" Gautier stared down at Nicolas with an almost sad expression on his face, but then he suddenly grinned. "But you still pout just like you used to when someone teases you."

"I do _not_ pout!" Nicolas argued, pouting, and Gautier laughed loudly, shaking his head.

"Of course not, of course not. Come on, Nicolas, let's get back to my apartment." 

_Familiar breath of my old lies  
Changed the color in my eyes  
Soon he will perforate the fabric of the peaceful by and by_

The next few days, Nicolas trailed his brother almost everywhere he went. Even to the meetings Gautier attended, which Nicolas admittedly found boring yet in a way very interesting and eye-opening. He was enthralled by the speaker's ability to speak in such a convincing way; it reminded him of his friend Enjolras. Although, he'd thought, Enjolras would have been much more powerful; he had a very strong presence, and even the smallest look and sentence had you captured. Still, Enjolras was one he counted as a close, friend, and for him such things were rare. Sometimes coming from an aristocratic background had its downsides. Many, he supposed.

"Nicolas, are you coming with today?"

Nicolas looked up from his book and nodded, placing a bookmark and shutting it. Gautier raised his eyebrows.

"Robespierre? I didn't think you got into that sort of thing."

"One of your friends loaned it to me." Nicolas shrugged. "I find it fascinating, really. It's a very interesting concept."

"Indeed, indeed." Gautier replied, grabbing his hat from the bureau. "Come, let's hurry: I've had warnings of violence on the streets in this area, targeting students. We should get to the café before dark."

"Right." Nicolas said, grabbing his coat and heading after his brother. They walked down the darkening streets swiftly, with little chatter. They were a mere block from their café destination when Nicolas felt himself being suddenly pushed to the ground, and he heard Gautier's angry exclamation as three men stepped out of the shadows, and he appeared to recognize at least one of them. HE growled.

"I should of known. How dare a violent group such as you claim to be worthy of our cause?"

"Oh, shut up, Aristo." One of the men sneered, and Gautier scowled.

"So that's what it's about is it? Well, let us settle this elsewhere, and more peacefully: just let my brother go. He has no part of this."

"Gautier, no!" Nicolas cried, trying to stand up but one of the other men pushed him back down, and Gautier started forward angrily.

"Don't touch him! Your quarrel is with me alone!"

"Our quarrel is with you and your aristo ways, M. _de_ Courfeyrac." One of the men mocked. "And this includes your dandy of a brother. Such a pansy, he doesn't even try to fight back."

Nicolas trembled, his gray eyes wide in fear as he stared at the three men, the leader he now noticed sported a long knife in his hand and a small handgun in his belt. Gautier glanced at him, and then looked back up at the men.

"Don't you dare touch him again. Hurt me if you must, but…my brother is young. Let him go, and you can do whatever you want with me."

"We'll do that whether your dandy brother is here or not." The leader sneered, and it took only a second for the gun to leave his belt, and only a second more to cock and then… 

_Sorrow last through this night  
I'll take this piece of you  
And hope for all eternity  
For just one second I felt whole  
As you flew right through me_

_BANG  
_

Nicolas sat frozen as he watched his brother hit the pavement, and the men just laughed. He couldn't even move as one of them turned back to look at them. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, could hardly breathe….he trembled uncontrollably as one of them crouched down next to him.

"See that, kid? This is what happens to those who try and go against their background, try to make us feel like their one of us." He tilted Nicolas' head up with the knife. "Now, I'm gonna let you live, sou you can spread this message to all your little aristocratic buds, alright? Remember that we let you live, you little sniveling bastard. Got it?"

"He ain't gonna say nothin' ; look at 'im. 'e's just a little wimpy teen. Let's get out of here before the police come."

"Right." The leader glared at Nicolas one last time before he sat on the ground and then the group moved away, leaving Nicolas paralyzed where he had been left.

_Left alone with only reflections of the memory  
To face the ugly [guy] that's smothering me  
Sitting closer than my pain  
He knew each tear before it came  
Soon He will perforate the fabric of the peaceful by and by_

"…Nicolas…"

Nicolas stayed frozen, and it took several attempts for the faint call to reach his mind. When he finally looked up, he saw Gautier, his eyes half closed, gazing at him with a vague smile on his face.

"…thank goodness, you're alright….they didn't hurt you…"

"G-Gautier…" Nicolas sobbed, still unable to move and he shook so much that his teeth were chattering. Gautier just smiled.

"It's alright…Nicolas…go, please…"

"I-I can't…" Nicolas choked. "I c-c-can't…"

"You must…" Gautier pleaded. "Please, Nicolas…if Maman found out…you were with em…."

"B-but…I can't…I won't leave you…"

"Please…" Gautier smiled, but it was pained. "I'll be fine…go…."

"I…i…" Nicolas clenched his teeth to stop their chattering and nodded. "Okay...I-I'll go, but…but promise me….Promise me you'll come back…"

"I will…" Gautier gave him a strained smile. "Goodbye, Nicolas…"

Nicolas just nodded and got to his feet slowly, making his way through the alley and back towards the apartment, sobbing brokenly because he knew that his brother had been lying.

_Sorrow last through this night  
I'll take this piece of You  
And hope for all eternity  
For just one second I felt whole  
As You flew right through me_

"What?"

Etienne Combeferre ran pell-mell through the streets, brushing the rain that had started up. Someone had just informed him of what had happened, and if he knew Nicolas….He shook his head grimly as he made his way to the Luxembourg Gardens, and to the little place in the bushes that was always dry, and where he knew he would find his best friend.

"Nicolas?" He called as he crawled underneath, and sure enough, Nicolas was there, curled into a ball, hugging his knees, his head buried in his arms. He gave no sign that he had even heard his friend's voice, and after a few more tries, Combeferre shook him.

"Nicolas? Nicolas, it's me, Etienne. A fellow student told me, about your brother…"

"'t-'tienne?" Nicolas looked up, his eyes swollen and red as evidence of his tears. Combeferre nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Nicolas, I am so sorry. I can't possibly know how you feel…."

Nicolas just sobbed, burying his head in his best friend's shoulder.

"Why him?" he cried. "Why Gautier? Wh-what did he ever do? Wh-why?"

"Shhh…" Combeferre soothed as Nicolas dissolved into tears once more. "Nicolas, it was just a random attack. Your brother just happened to be there at the time. Thank goodness, you weren't there as well, or you would've shared the same fate."

So no one knew he had been there as well. Nicolas was both relieved and sickened by the thought. This stement only made him cry harder.

"Why not me me? Wh-wh-why him, and not me? Wh-why?"

"Nicolas, please don't say that." Combeferre begged. "Please don't do this to me. DO you know how worried I was when I heard them mention your last name, and that someone got shot? God in heaven…I thought you were dead…" he whispered. "I was so scared…"

Nicolas didn't reply, but he sniffed and pushed himself off Combeferre's shoulder and tried to scrub at his eyes. After a fruitless minute Combeferre handed him a dry handkerchief, smiling sadly.

"I'm glad you're safe, Nicolas."

"…"

Courfeyrac tried to reply, but he just couldn't find the words, so he just bowed his head and nodded numbly.

_And we kiss each other one more time_  
_And sing this lie that's halfway mine  
The sword is slicing through the question  
So I won't be fooled by his angel light_

A week later at Combeferre's apartment, Nicolas was still trying to convince himself that this was all just some crazy dream. It had to be. It just had to. He rolled over on the bed, which he had yet to move from since Combeferre brought him back to the apartment a week ago. Combeferre looked harangued and tired, but the would-be doctor was greatly concerned over his helplessness in helping his friend. Nicolas was basically mute, speaking in only short sentences and refusing to eat, claiming he didn't feel like it. His brother's death had caused a huge dent in his life, and as Combeferre had written in the letter to Nicolas' parents, it seemed unlikely that Nicolas would ever return to normal. Combeferre walked into the room a few minutes later with Nicolas' parents, and his little brother, Jacques-François. His mother Corrine was cry, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief, and the husband was doing his best to look clam and stern as always, but even his eyes were slightly reddened.

"Nicolas?" He asked, and Nicolas just curled up under the covers, causing M. de Courfeyrac and Combeferre to exchange a glance.

"Has he been like this the whole time?"

"Sadly." Combeferre replied, going over to the bed and shaking his friend lightly. "Come on, Nicolas-your parents are here. Please don't ignore us."

Nicolas turned over reluctantly, and pushed himself to a sitting position. Corrine gasped and flung her arms around her now eldest son.

"Oh, Nicolas, _mon petit_! Thank goodness you are safe!"

Nicolas just nodded, but tears began trailing down his cheeks, and his mother squeezed him tighter.

"Oh, my poor child, my dear…it's alright, it's going to be alright, we'll get through this…"

"B-but he's gone…" Nicolas whispered hoarsely. "H-how can life go on if he's not here?"

"Live for him, dear." Corrine whispered sadly. "Gautier always wanted you to be happy, so you ust be happy for him. He would want you to be happy no matter what happened, sweetheart. SO please, just smile…for him…"

"I can't…" Nicolas whispered, crying. "I-I can't, Maman…it hurts…"

"I know it does dear." Corrine choked. "I know it does…it will take time, maybe even years. But onee day, we'll be able to smile again."

_Sorrow last through this night  
I'll take this piece of you  
And hope for all eternity  
For just one second I felt whole  
As you flew right through me  
And up into the stars…._  
One month later, Combeferre returned to his apartment to find it empty. He was at furst surprised, and then quite worried and headed back out after his friend. Nicolas was in the first place he checked-the bushes in the park. However, where he expected to find Courfeyrac crying, he was…humming. Combeferre blinked in surprise.

"Nicolas?"

"Courfeyrac."

"Hm?" Combeferre blinked I surprise. "What?"

"Don't call me by Nicolas anymore." Nicolas replied lightly. "I've decided I will no longer be referred to by my first name. I will simply be Courfeyrac-no particle, no Nicolas, no nothing."

"What…." Combeferre gaped. "Are you alright, Nicolas?"

"Courfeyrac." Said man corrected, and surprised his friend with a smile. "And yes, I'm quite alright. I've just realized there's no need to waste my life all depressed. I'm going to stick my chin up and keep going, no matter what. SO I'll smile, and I'll be happy, because that's what he wanted."

"Happy meaning an over-cheerful façade? Really, Nicolas, this is ridiculous…."

"I'm serious." Nicolas replied. "I'm changing who I am. I will be Courfeyrac, and I will continue in my brother's work with a smile on my face. Now, the only question left is whether or not you will join me."

"Join you? What the….you're crazy, absolutely stark raving mad, Nicolas…maybe we should get you to a doctor…"

"No! Etienne, please, I am not going crazy." Nicolas smiled. "I'm just doing what my brother would want me to do."

"To turn into a grinning maniac and continue in the same cause htat got him killed? Gee, somehow, I'm just not following your wisdom…."

"Please, Etienne!" Nicolas pleaded, the smile dropping off his face. "Please, just help me with this…please…"

Combeferre took one look at his friend's face, and sighed deeply.

"Fine. I'm with you."

Courfeyrac just smiled, and hugged his friend close.

"Thank you, Etienne! You're the greatest friend."

Combeferre just frowned, knowing there would be a day he would regret his decision later on. But for now, he would humor his friend. Just to keep the smile on the face of Nicolas Courfeyrac.

_Joy will come…._


	2. Hand of Sorrow

A/N: The second one-shot. This time it's Feuilly! His character is very interesting to me, so I decided to write about something that needed explaining anyway to better show his character.

And if the ending is confusing, it's supposed to be. It's a scene I don't want to really give away since it's part of the actual storyline.

So anyway, here it is!

**Hand of Sorrow**

_**The child without a name grew up to be the hand  
To watch you, to shield you, or kill on demand…**_

The bright sun shone down on the large house on the edge of the city. It was Paris, year 1823, and the mid-June sun had warmed the city in many ways, some of which were not so nice. The tempers and tensions of the people in the city were heightening with the heat, and fights were becoming more common in the main city. But on the outer edge, it was peaceful, almost idyllic. And it was entirely peaceful in the aforementioned house; wherein lived a young boy and his parents. Said boy was currently sitting in one of the trees at the front of his property, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his new housemate. He swung his legs, hazel eyes shining brightly as he stared down the road, his auburn hair blowing across his face. He sighed, and then called down to the chairs under the tree.

"_Maman_, when is she going to get here? You said she'd be here soon!"

"She'll be along soon, Pierre, just be patient." His mother smiled warmly, and Pierre smiled back.

"I hope so! I've never met her before."

"Yes, I know, Pierre; now, be careful, or you'll fall."

"I will not!" Pierre stuck his tongue out obstinately and went back to swinging his legs. After another minute he suddenly jumped excitedly, almost losing his balance as he pointed and yelled down to his mother. "I see a carriage,_ Maman_! She's here!"

"Be careful, Pierre." She called up; setting aside the needlework she had been working on and gently shaking her husband, who had been snoring quietly. "Wake up, Pascal: she's here."

"Hm? Oh, right." Pascal yawned, stretching. "Come on down, Pierre; we need to get you cleaned up before you meet her."

"But I don't want to: I'm perfectly fine like this!"

"Pierre…"

"Alright, alright…." Pierre swung down easily, causing his mother to gasp. She frowned, scolding.

"Don't do things like that, Pierre, or you'll get hurt. "

Pierre sighed, but nodded as he pouted.

"_Oui, Maman_."

"Thank you." She smiled, ruffling his hair. "Now let's go have Lucille clean you up so you can meet your cousin."

_**The choice he'd made, he could not comprehend  
His blood a grim secret, they had to command…**_

"Bonjour, Mlle. Rona."

Pierre couldn't help but stare, peering from behind his mother's skirts. I mean, it was just weird; how could anyone's hair be black AND Orange? He gaped and his mother glanced behind her, glaring lightly.

"Pierre, don't be rude." She smiled up at Rona. "Forgive my son. He's never seen someone so…"

"I don't mind." Rona replied blandly, glancing behind her. "Don't be shy, Deline-sama; come out and meet your cousin."

"…_oui_…"

Pierre gasped as the young girl tiptoed out from behind her guardian, and his mother gave him a reprimanding glare again.

"Pierre…"

"Sorry…um…" He smiled, stepping out from behind his mother's skirts, bowing timidly. "I'm Pierre Feuilly."

"…Deline. Deline Velvora." She replied faintly. Apparently, I am your cousin."

"_Oui_." He replied, grinning. "I never knew I had a cousin before."

"Me neither." Deline replied, still not smiling. He cocked his head curiously.

"Are you sad? Why don't you smile?"

"Pierre!" His mother gasped, and then she turned to Rona. "I'm sorry-he's not usually this rude, I swear, he isn't."

"It's fine; I'm sure he meant no harm." Rona smiled kindly at him. "Deline-sama has just been through a very sad experience, Mr. Pierre. It would be kinder if you did not speak of it."

"Oh, I-I'm very sorry." Pierre muttered bashfully, Rona smiled.

"It's alright, Mr. Pierre; you didn't know, it's not your fault. Anyway." She cleared her throat. "Why don't you take Deline-sama for a tour of the property, ok?"

"Oh, eh, sure." Pierre glanced back at his mother and she nodded.

"Yes, why don't you run along, Pierre, _chérie_; the adults need to talk."

"_Oui_. Come on, Deline."

"…"  
Deline followed him silently, and he didn't speak either until they made it to the backyard. When they got there, he let out a sigh, but there was a large grin on his face.

"So, Deline, huh?"

"_Oui._"

"Is that all you say? Oh, I mean…" he blushed. "Sorry. I'm not used to being around other kids…."

"Really? Why?" Deline asked timidly, and he shrugged.

"I don't know, actually. Maman and Papa never told me."

"Oh. Wow, I…." Deline just trailed off, and Pierre just laughed.

"It's fine: I find enough to do by myself that I really don't mind." He grinned. "Let's go play in the orchard area; do you like to climb trees?"

"In a dress?" Deline snorted, but for the first time she smiled faintly, and he just laughed.

"Sure, why not? Not that I've ever worn one, you know, but…"

Deline giggled, and then covered her mouth with her hand.

"Sorry…"

"Please, feel free to laugh, I don't mind. It's rather pleasant…ah, I mean, not to sound weird or anything, um…" he blushed. "I'll stop talking."

"Don't. Deline chuckled. "Anyway, how old are you? Rona never told me…"

"Oh, um, twelve: Why do you ask?"

"Oh just wondering. I'm nine, by the way." She replied as he swung up onto the lower branch of a tree, then she added quietly. "Your parents seem nice."

"Yeah, they are, I guess." He shrugged. "They don't listen to anything I say, but that's just how they are. They have to keep up appearances, you know?"

"Yeah, I know….." Deline mumbled, and she had such a sad look on her face that Pierre felt like he had to do something. He held down his hand, smiling.

"Come on; I'll help you up."

"What? No way, I-I can't…" Deline frowned. "I'm a lady, I can't climb trees. Plus, I'm in a dress…"

"Little matter." Pierre grinned. "You know you want to."

"I..." Deline sighed, but he saw the trace of a smile on her lips. "Fine. But your parents and Rona better not see us."

"They won't. Come on, Deline." He grasped her thin hand and tugged her up, causing her to yelp. But when she was settled in on the branch, there was a broad grin on her face.

"Wow, there's a great view from up here…"

"I know, right?" Pierre smiled fondly as he stood, leaning against the trunk. "It's very nice and clear out today; you can see almost the entire city…"

"Yeah…" Deline stared out at the horizon longingly. "It's beautiful…"

Pierre didn't reply, but instead just swung down onto the low wall that bordered the orchard. Deline yelped in alarm.

"Hey, don't leave em here! I can't get down in this darn dress, you meanie."

"Relax, _chérie_, I'm not going to leave you up there." Pierre laughed. "I'll go back up in a minute."

"Meanie." Deline pouted, and Pierre just grinned incorrigibly in reply. She stared at him, then sighed, dropping her head into her hands.

"Have you ever wondered what would happen if your parents died?"

_**He's torn between his honor and the true love of his life;  
He prayed for both, but was denied…  
**_

Pierre froze unexpectedly, spinning on his heel and almost losing his balance. Deline stared at him, surprised at his wide eyes and gaping mouth.

"What did you say? How…" he shook his head. "No. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Pierre?" Deline frowned. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you such a question. I didn't know it would upset you."

"I'm not upset!" Pierre snapped, and then covered his mouth. "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I-I don't know why I did that…"

"Because there's something bothering you?" Deline asked kindly, and Pierre shook his head, resuming his walk along the wall.

"Nothing's bothering me, Deline. Why should there be? I have a family, I have a nice house…I'm really very well off, if you think about it."

"You're pretty mature for twelve years old." Deline remarked, and Pierre snorted.

"You're younger than me, Deline, yet you act much older; and you speak better." He added, causing Deline to wrinkle her nose.

"I guess so. But only because I studied a lot since I had a lot of extra time on my hands. Besides, I've always been mature: most people who have bad things happen to them are."

"Have you really had such bad things happen to you? Ah, I mean…" Pierre sighed. "I am terribly sorry. I've been very rude to you."

"No, you've been frank, and honest: it's actually quite nice, to have someone who's not afraid to blurt things out to me and make me feel uncomfortable."

"That doesn't sound like a very nice thing." Pierre remarked, and Deline chuckled.

"It is when you've had people stepping on eggshells around you for years. It's nice to have someone new, I guess. And someone my age."

"You haven't had people your age around either?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Not for a couple of years now. My childhood friends were left behind in my old home, when I have been passed amongst relatives. Not that I mind being here." She added hurriedly. "Really, I think it'll be great to be here. You seem like a very interesting kid."

"Er, thanks, I think…" Pierre smiled, and Deline laughed.

"You're Welcome. Now, about what I said be-"

"Pierre! Mlle. Deline! Come back in and get ready for dinner!"

Deline glanced back at the house.

"Who's that?"

"My nurse, Lucille." Pierre grumbled, swinging back onto the tree branch and extending his hand. "Come on, we better go inside: I'll help you down."

"Oh, um, merci, Pierre." Deline smiled, and Pierre smiled back. He was just helping her back to the ground when he heard a tutting from the ground.

"Pierre, good heavens, what on earth are you doing?" Lucille tutted. "The young Mademoiselle should not be climbing trees like this. Come on down, Pierre."

"_Oui,_ Ma'am." He grinned, jumping down right in front of his nurse, and she didn't even flinch.

"Get on inside, Pierre, and get cleaned up for dinner; you can follow me, Mlle. Deline."

Deline nodded, staring at Pierre who just grinned and ran off into the house, Lucille caught her watching and shook her head.

"I just don't get that child. It may be very out of place for me to say so, but I honestly believe there is something wrong with that child."

"Why?" Deline asked quietly, "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing really, but he's just so mature, and he has nightmares, without telling anyone what they are about or why he's having them: He's a very strange and lonely child." Lucille concluded, and then looked down at her charge. "Forgive me; we must be getting along, or the Madame and Monsieur will be kept waiting. Come with me."

Deline just nodded, looking distracted as she thought on what the nurse had said.

_Nightmares, huh? Just like…_

"Come along, Mlle. Deline."

"_Oui._" Deline walked swiftly to catch up with Lucille, but her thoughts were far away…

_  
__**So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed;  
Was it worth the ones we loved, and had to leave behind?  
**_

Summer passed quickly, and Pierre's parents finally noticed something was wrong with their sun as the season's changed. He became solemn, and often sat in the trees, staring at the leaves, by himself. However, he did take time to play with Deline still, and it was one such day that Deline finally managed to ask him something that had been on her mind.

"Pierre? Why is it you keep staring up at the leaves like that?"

"Hm? Whatever do you mean?" He looked back down at her, but shortly after his gaze drifted back up. Deline sighed, kicking her legs against the low wall she was sitting on top of.

"Like that: your mother and father have begun to notice as well. And I think I know what it is that's bothering you." She added coolly, and Pierre looked over, his cocked eyebrow showing his clear skepticism.

"Is that so? And, pray tell, what is it that's wrong with me?"

"You have dreams, am I right? Visions."

Pierre froze, then burst out laughing, but Deline was rewarded with the fact that it seemed nervous, strained.

"That's just crazy, Deline: it's impossible. You know things like that don't exist."

"Oh, don't they?" Deline retorted, and Pierre nodded, smiling.

"Of course they don't: and besides, even if such crazy things managed to exist, why on earth would I be having these, ah, 'visions'? It's just crazy."

"You're nervousness simply proves my point." Deline replied, gesturing airily. "And you're obsession with the changing of the seasons. Normally people don't stare at the changing leaves with such a frightened expression on their face."

"What makes you think I look frightened?" Pierre snapped irritably, and Deline just grinned in triumph.

"Don't hide it, Pierre: I understand, I can help you with this…"

"You can't help me." He replied angrily, "What do you know, huh?"

"More than you, obviously. And if you must know, I went through the same thing, Pierre: I know what is happening to you. And I can help you through it."

"No you can't" he muttered. "Besides, you're just a kid."

"And what does that make you?" she retorted, "Just because you're three years older doesn't mean anything: I've seen things that would make you run crying for your mother, and would give you worse nightmares for years to come. You don't want to mess with me, Pierre Feuilly. Now, tell me what the hell you've been seeing."

"No." He replied, switching back to his cool, calm personality in light of her explosion. "There's nothing I have seen. You are assuming things, Deline."

"I am not!" She snapped. "And you're just going to cause more trouble if you don't tell anyone, Pierre! Trust me, I know!"

"Really?" was all he replied, and Deline was about to yell back when Pierre's mother called from the path.

"Children, what on earth are you yelling about?"

"Nothing, Maman." Pierre replied calmly. "Just playing, you know; kid stuff."

"Sounded like the two of you were arguing." She replied, gazing at him skeptically, and then Deline, who just shook her head.

"It's nothing, Ma'am. We were just playing around, as he said. Really, it was nothing."

Mme. Feuilly gazed her son, then her niece, and finally sighed.

"Really, Pierre, what's gotten into you these days? It's like…like you're a completely different child. Where's the happy little Pierre I once knew?"

"I'm happy, _Maman_." Pierre told her, and indeed, his expression would have shown such to one who did not know him. But to his mother, it was only an admission of his uncharacteristic behavior. She sighed again.

"_Chérie_, why won't you just tell us what's wrong? Did something happen to you?"

"_Non, Maman_." Pierre replied, sounding bored, but neither female was buying into it. "And I wish you would all stop pestering me about it."

"I worry, Pierre." His mother said. "You always look so upset and tired these days. Have you been sleeping well? Maybe we should call in a doctor-"

"I'm sleeping fine, _Maman_." Pierre replied, beginning to sound irritable now. "Really, there's absolutely nothing wrong with me, so please stop asking me about it."

"Alright…" Mme. Feuilly sighed wearily. "Since when were you so rude, Pierre? You were never like this before."

"There's nothing wrong with me." Pierre snapped, finally letting his irritation show, but he quickly backed down. "You needn't worry, Maman. I will try to refrain from such rudeness in the future: I don't know what got into me today."

"That's the problem." Mme. Feuilly muttered, but she just sighed, shaking her head. "But if you insist you are fine…anyway, you two should get cleaned up: one of the neighboring families is coming over to dinner tonight."

"Really?" Pierre perked up instantaneously, and his mother nodded.

"Yes. Now go get cleaned up, _chéries_."

"Oui!" both young children chorused, and they ran towards the house. Mme. Feuilly stared after them, the smile sliding off her face. She was starting to get concerned about her son's change of demeanor, and his attitude towards her questioning only heightened her concern. She sighed deeply once more, saying quietly to herself.

"I'm sure it's simply a phase he is going through. Yes, that's it: a phase, nothing more…."

_**So many years have passed, who are the noble and the wise?  
Will all our sins be justified?**_

"Maman, must you go out tonight?"

Mme. Feuilly looked down at her young son, buttoning the buttons of her coat. She raised her eyebrows, but just smiled.

"Pierre, your Papa and I have been planning to go to this party for at least a month now. You know this."

"_Oui, __mais_…" He stared at the ground, twitching nervously. "Maman…I just…I feel like…."

"Pierre, is there some reason you don't want your father and I to go out tonight?"

_**The curse of his powers tormented his life;  
Obeying the crown was a sinister price…**_

"Of…of course not, Maman." Pierre laughed nervously, finally looking up. "It's just that….I really feel like…."

"Pierre, _chérie_, if you aren't going to give me a reason, your father and I are going to leave very shortly. What is it you need?"

"I…." he just froze up, unable to get out the words he really wanted, needed, to say to her: To get her to stay home, to not go out that night. But she just sighed, shaking her head.

"You'll be just fine staying here with Lucille: you have done this several times before, Pierre. I don't know what it is that has you so upset, but…just give us this one night, _chérie_. Then I'll spend as much time as you wish with you."

"But what if…what if you…" Pierre shut his eyes in frustration, trying to just spit out what was on his mind, but he couldn't, and no matter how hard he tried the words just wouldn't come out. His mother just tied on her hat, shaking her head sadly.

"I'm sorry, Pierre, but your father and I really must be going-Pascal, _chérie_, are you ready?"

"_Oui_." Pierre's father stood, smiling as he hooked his elbow with his wife. He smiled down at his son. "We'll be back before you know it, Pierre._ Adieu_!"

"Mam-"

"_Adieu_, Pierre. See you later." His mother just waved as his father led her out of the house and down the path to the awaiting carriage. Pierre just stood staring, unable to look away, until a voice interrupted his thoughts.

"What is it you see?"

He jumped, turning to see Deline standing at the bottom of the staircase, her arms folded across her chest, a knowing expression on her face. He opened and closed his mouth, but only one word came out.

"Non."

And then he fled, following the carriage that was already rounding the bend. Deline just stared after him, shaking her head.

"It's too late, Pierre Feuilly. Too late…"_  
_

_**His soul was tortured by love and by pain  
He surely would flee, but the oath made him stay…**__  
_

"Maman! Papa! Wait, please! Please, come back!"

_**He's torn between his honor and the true love of his life  
He prayed for both but was denied…**_

He tore after the carriage, which moved much faster than his legs could carry him, but he ran after it regardless. Try as he might, he could not stop the tears that began to track down his cheeks, and it only made it harder to run. He sobbed, cursing himself.

"Why, why didn't I tell them? Why…please, wait up…"

He ran and ran, but slowly his strides shrunk and his breathing grew ragged, forcing him to slow. He stared at the carriage that drove slowly out of sight, and he just collapsed to the ground, curling into himself.

"It's all my fault…it's going to happen, and it's all my fault…Maman…Papa…."_  
_

_**So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed  
Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind?**_

"Mlle. Deline, where is Pierre?"

Lucille entered the guest room, and Deline turned to look at her, surprised to see the sad look on her face and the traces of tears in her eyes. She got down from the window seat where she had been sitting, waiting for her cousin's return.

"What happened, Mlle. Lucille?"

"I…your aunt and uncle…they got into an accident…"

"What?" Deline gasped, hands flying to her mouth. _"Mon __dieu_….how did this happen?"

"I do not know the details…" Lucille replied, her voice wavering as tears streamed down her cheeks. "They just sent a policeman to inform me. But where did Pierre go?"

"He…he ran off." Deline just shook her head, dazed, and muttered to herself. "So that's what he saw…_mon dieu_….Oh Pierre…."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing." Deline replied, looking back up at Lucille. "Should I go out and find him?

"Heave's, no…I'll send for a policeman."

"What will happen to us now?" Deline asked quietly, and Lucille just stared down at her sadly.

"Your grandmother has been contacted. She is too ill to keep you two, but she'll take you for at least a little while they find another place to put you." Lucille frowned deeply, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. "it is so sudden. How aful, two such nice, kind people…"

Deline just nodded, turning back to stare out the window, her thoughts on her lost cousin.

_**So many years have passed, who are the noble and the wise?  
Will all our sins be justified?**_

HE couldn't go back. Not to his empty home, where there was nothing left for him. Not after what had happened. After what he'd done…Pierre sobbed as he headed towards the center of Paris. Hr clutched his thin coat, shivering in the autumn chill. Suddenly a voice said from a nearby alleyway.

"Kid. Hey, kid."

He looked up, wincing in the light from the street lamp. A man stood in the shadows of the alley, but even in the shadow, Pierre could see the rags he wore and the few missing teeth from the man's smile. He shivered.

"What?"

""what' he says." The man snorted, stepping out into the light. Pierre took an automatic step back and the man laughed.

"What's a rich twerp like you doing out all alone, eh? Where are your parents?"

Pierre's lip quivered at the mention, and this only caused the man to laugh loudly.

"Aw, did I frighten you? Well, just come with me, kid, and we'll get you something…"

"N-no!" Pierre stepped back, so scared that the tears starting streaming from his eyes again. THE man just advanced more, grinning wickedly, but was stopped right before he reached Pierre by a man who stepped between them. The man in rags snorted.

"What do you think you're doing, student? This ain't none of your business."

"You were going to harm this young boy." The student just said, adjusting his spectacles calmly. "I suggest you go before I am forced to call the police."

"Why you-"

"Off with you!" The student commanded, and to Pierre's surprise the ragged man actually left, glaring contemptuously at the young boy before heading back into the alley. The young student waited until he was out of sight before turning and smiling at Pierre.

"Hello there, young man: are you all right? Oh, dear, your face is a mess: here, let's clean you up."

The student smiled warmly, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping at Pierre's tearstained face. Pierre was too exhausted to stop him, but he didn't say anything. The student frowned, and then asked quietly.

"What happened, Monsieur…"

"…Pierre…." Pierre replied hesitantly, and then he added quietly. "I can't say. That is…I…."

"It's alright: you needn't tell me if you don't wish." The young student smiled. "MY name is Combeferre. Etienne Combeferre."

"Nice t-to meet you…" Pierre yawned, but then tried to repress it at the student's raised eyebrow. "I'm not tired. And I'm not alone. I'm-I'm just going home…I…"

"Really." Combeferre looked at him suspiciously. "You know, you could come over to my place while we contact your parents. I have a friend of mine who lives with me already that you could talk to if you wanted, he's just a few years older than you, I would think-"

"No!" Pierre backed away. "No, thank you, really, I-I can,…by myself...um, bye!" he turned and fled. "Thank you..."

"Wait!" Combeferre called, but Pierre didn't listen, tears running down his face as he ran alone into the dark depths of the city…

_**Please forgive me for the sorrow, for leaving you in fear;  
For the dreams we had to silence, that's all they'll ever be….**_

Almost ten years later, Pierre (now simply Feuilly) sat in his dark hotel room. It was four in the morning, but he could not sleep, nor did he plan to.

"Not if I have to see that again…" he shuddered as he spoke to himself. "When it's not visions these days its nightmares. I don't need that, especially not today…" he sighed, staring at the small calendar he had posted on the wall. It was September 18th, a day he could never forget, no matter how much he tried to persuade himself he had…

"_Maman…Papa…_"

He shut his eyes, willing himself not to cry, but he could only remember that night, and those dreams, those dreams…they'd never go away, no matter how many years went by, no matter how he presented himself to others. Sure, he seemed like an idiot who never remembered anything, but it was necessary. No one else needed to remember what he remembered, what he'd seen…it wasn't their burden to bear. Not Kira, not Combeferre, not anybody…he rubbed the tears from his eyes, but they just kept on coming. He scolded himself in his mind.

_You idiot…ten years, and you still can't stop crying…what would Papa say?_

Of course, this didn't help. He knew it wouldn't: it only would make him cry more_._

_The least I can do is save them….to make up fro my past mistakes, I must save the….__**  
**_

_**Still I'll be the hand that saves you,  
Though you'll not see that it is me…**__  
_

He stood up, grabbing his coat and scrubbing the last of the tears from his eyes as he headed out the door, ready. Ready for what he had to do, to repent, to make it up to his parents, in their memories…he ran in the dawn, hoping he wouldn't be too late to stop it…_  
_

_Not this time…Not this time…_

He ran once again through darkened streets, but now his eyes were dry, and they glittered not with tears but with determination, and strength.

_Maman…Papa…now it's my time…my turn to be strong… _

He stared into the darkness, no longer afraid, and swore to himself.

"I will save you."

_**So many dreams were broken and so much was sacrificed  
Was it worth the ones we loved and had to leave behind?  
So many years have passed, who are the noble and the wise?  
Will all our sins be justified?**_


	3. Remember When It Rained

**A/N: **Look, another oneshot!

These are more fun to do. I mean, it's harder to get into actual character in a large story, but here I can let them be who they are and let the story run where it will.

This is mostly Courfeyrac, which some Combeferre confliction as well. Set at the very very end of my main story and the beginning of the sequel. Everything is mostly explained though so it doesn't matter.

**Remember When It Rained**

_Wash away the thoughts inside  
That keep my mind away from you..._

Silence. Never had a silence weighed so heavily in the air, yet there it was. There, on the field of flattened grass, in the aftermath of an explosion. One that had shook the entire area surrounding; the trees, the castle, the few groups in the woods who at the very same time felt the barrier keeping them at bay disintegrate, and they were cheered. But still, it was silent. And there was no cheer left when they got to the clearing in the trees and saw the sight that awaited them there. The oppressive silence was broken only by a sort of choked gasp coming from a young man with brown hair and spectacles on his pale face. Next to him, a younger man's hazel eyes widened in horror as they dashed forward, along with the mall band of friends that had followed to see the results of the awful battle they knew to be taking place. The bespectacled man knelt by one of the three figures, unable to stop his choked sob.

"Oh God, oh no, no…."

"Kira!"

A young woman with bright red hair darted forward, crouching by the side of the young blonde woman who lay beside him. The young man and woman were both completely motionless, and a quick told her that it was just as she had feared.

"'Ferre…oh, God, oh God, it's happened, it's happened again….why…"

"Is Nicolas…is he..?" The hazel eyed man, Feuilly, stood a foot away, trembling as he stared at the pair on the ground. Combeferre just shook his head, his voice almost inaudible when he replied.

"No, I don't think…I mean, I think he might be alive, for now, but…I…." he looked up at the red-haired girl, who was sobbing quietly, not bothering to hide it. "Kira…Kira is…"

"I know…" Feuilly replied, bowing his head and shivering. "Why...how could this happen…."

"I don't know, Feuilly." Combeferre replied, regaining his composure as he carefully lifted his immobile friend off the ground. "I don't know what happened here. All I know is that if I don't get him back soon, Courfeyrac will be lost too. I can't let that happen; you know that."

Feuilly looked back up to see Combeferre moving off, his head bowed so his hair shaded his face, but he knew the sorrow that would likely be written on his friend's face. He frowned, shaking as he looked back down at Kira, and he couldn't stop the tear that trickled down his check. Redweila just glanced up at him, the tearstains on her own cheeks shining in the faint light.

"M. Feuilly…go get her parents, please…they should kn-know…" she bowed her head again, adding faintly. "At least she won. She finally won….after 24 years she's finally won….oh, Kira…"

Feuilly retreated as she dissolved into fresh tears, wiping his eyes to stop any that might try and escape out of his own.

"Courfeyrac! Oh, thank the heaven's you've finally awoken!"

Combeferre flung his arms around his friend's neck, being careful not to jolt him overmuch. Courfeyrac just stared forward with dull grey eyes, seemingly unseeing. Combeferre held him out at arm's length, gazing at him worriedly.

"Courfeyrac?"

There was no response, only silence: Combeferre became increasingly worried. It was as uncharacteristic as his friend could get, and it frightened him immensely; he grabbed his friends shoulders in a tight grip and repeated.

"Courfeyrac? Courfeyrac, answer me."

He still just stayed silent, his gaze unfocused, seeming not even to register Combeferre's loudening voice, nor those of the two others who entered the room upon hearing the voice.

"Combeferre? What's wrong?" Enjolras stared at them, his normally expressionless face twisting in surprise when he saw Courfeyrac and Combeferre's scared expression.

"I don't know. I don't know, I just…I can't get him to respond. It's like he's not even there…."

_No more love and no more pride  
And thoughts are all I have to do….  
_

"What do you mean? Nicolas?" Feuilly knelt by the bedside by Combeferre, and grabbed one of Courfeyrac's pale hands. Courfeyrac's face showed no signs he felt the touch, and the voice didn't faze him either. Feuilly looked up at Combeferre, his eyes widening.

"What's happened? Why is he like this?"

"I don't know." Combeferre replied quietly, shaking his head as he stood up, releasing Courfeyrac's shoulders. "I don't know…I mean, it could be from the shock, perhaps or…" he gazed sadly at the black-haired man on the bed. "Maybe I missed something…maybe he hit his head or…"

"Or maybe he's just in shock." Enjolras said, sighing. "You don't need to always have the answer, Combeferre. Sometimes it could just be that it's emotional rather than something you can simply fix with medicine."

"But then…then how am I supposed to help him?" Combeferre said faintly, bowing his head. "There has to be something I can do, anything…"

"Sometimes there just isn't."

Yuki Sohma walked in, his purple eyes not even flickering when he saw Courfeyrac's blank face. Combeferre turned, glaring at him.

"What the hell do you know?"

"Calm yourself, Combeferre." Enjolras warned, touching his friend's shoulder in a rare show of concern. Combeferre took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh, but his eyes were still harsh when he looked at Yuki.

"I suggest you get out of here: you've caused them enough trouble as it is."

"I can't help it if Kira-"

Feuilly gasped aloud as Courfeyrac's head shot up, turning to stare at Yuki, his eyes finally flickering to life at the sound of the name. Combeferre knelt back beside him.

"Courfeyrac? Are you alright?"

He turned back to gaze at Combeferre, his face still empty of emotion, but his grey eyes were sorrowful as he shook his head. Combeferre frowned worriedly. "Won't you talk?" another shake of the head. "Whyever not?"

Courfeyrac just shook his head, lying back on the pillows and shutting his eyes, but he wasn't fooling Combeferre. Said man stood back up, scowling.

"Nicolas Courfeyrac, this is ridiculous. Why won't you talk to me?"

Courfeyrac opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling, ignoring his best friend's pleas. Combeferre opened his mouth to yell again, but was stopped by the sight of a lone tear making its way down Courfeyrac's pale cheek, unnoticed by its owner. He closed his mouth and bit his lip, biting back any angry lecture he had been about to say.

"I'm sorry. I…I'll leave you alone for now. Yes, then, ah…come on, everyone. Let's leave him to rest for a few days."

"It's not going to change anything, Combeferre." Feuilly whispered as he stood to leave, and Combeferre didn't look back at him as he walked out of the room.

"You don't know that. Come along, gentlemen: let's leave Monsieur _de_ Courfeyrac to his well-deserved rest."

"Combeferre!" Enjolras said sharply as he followed him out of the room, glancing back to see the briefest glimpse of pain in Courfeyrac's eyes before Feuilly, the last one out, shut the door. "That was uncalled for."

"I…I know." Combeferre sighed wearily, leaning back against the wall, removing his spectacles and rubbing his temples. "I know, I…I should never let my emotions get such a hold over me. I'm sorry."

"I know you're upset, _mon ami_, but it's not your fault that this has happened. Courfeyrac had just undergone an awful tragedy. It's only logical that he react so badly." Enjolras said kindly, and Combeferre just gave a strained laugh.

"I know. I know, and I was still such a jerk to him." He sighed. "I don't know what came over me…"

"Stress?" Feuilly quipped quietly, smiling wanly. "You've hardly slept a wink for days, 'Ferre. You should rest, especially now that Nicolas has woken up. There's no need for you to run yourself ragged like this."

"I'm perfectly alright, thank you." Combeferre retorted, shaking his head. "There are others I still must attend to still. I don't need much sleep anyways."

"Yes you do." Enjolras sighed. "And there are others with sufficient medical knowledge that could look after them. Please take a rest before you snap and do something you may regret."

"I…" Combeferre suppressed a yawn, shaking his head again. "Not yet. There are still some things I need to check."

"Combeferre-"

"Please, Enjolras." Combeferre turned walking down the hallway that led towards the main hall. The other three men watched, and Yuki snorted, causing Feuilly to glare.

"Why do you always have to be so rude to them, Yuki?"

Yuki just shrugged, rolling his eyes as he made his way back down the opposite way from the one Combeferre had taken. Feuilly glared after him, and Enjolras just rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, shaking his head in disgust.

"I never liked him from the beginning. I don't believe we can trust him."

"I…" Feuilly sighed. "I don't know…I mean, I want to trust him, because K-Kira trusted him. She thought he was good…"

"He seems to be an annoying git to me." Enjolras muttered, shaking his head once again as he followed Combeferre's path, leaving Feuilly alone in the hall. He sighed, rubbing his eyes wearily then gazing out the nearest window. "Oh, Kira…why'd you have to go? Why…why couldn't you have chosen to ignore it? Why'd you have to do it, knowing…?"

He sighed again deeply, rubbing his eyes one last time before heading off after his friends, with one last lingering glance at the door behind which Courfeyrac lay, still staring at the ceiling blankly.

_Oh, remember when it rained...  
I Felt the ground, and looked up high  
And called your name…  
_

It was dark and quiet on the roof, and the silent rain caused a film of water over the stone. Feuilly shivered, wiping his face and gazing out over the rooftop. He was surprised, however, when he saw a dark shape near the edge of the rooftop. He stood from his crouched position, walking over quietly and stealthily next to the wall. He gasped when he recognized the long black hair that dripped as it shielded the pale face of Courfeyrac.

"Co-"

He stopped himself short when he saw the suffering on Courfeyrac's normally blank face. It was the first emotion he had seen since before that night now two months ago, and it was enough to make him freeze. He could tell the thoughts running through his friend's mind just by the look in his grey eyes, for once alive and filled with pain.

_Oh, remember when it rained...  
In the darkness I remain…  
_

"Oh, Courfeyrac…" he whispered, and then his heart leapt to his throat when he noticed the sudden determination in the grey eyes and the foot that lifted off of the stone and into the empty air below. "Oh, God in Heaven…"

Courfeyrac shut his eyes. Feuilly choked, but then burst out loudly.

"Stop!"

Courfeyrac jolted, stepping backwards instinctively, his eyes flying open as he stared down at the darkness below. His mouth opened, but then he just shut it, shaking his head regretfully. Feuilly could see the self-hate written on his friend's face, likely for the folly he had almost committed. Or, at least that's what he hoped it was for. He took a deep breath, letting it out in a relieved sigh as Courfeyrac backed off from the edge of the roof, his face slowly molding back to its previous blankness, but there was no longer that desperate glint in his eyes, that longing…Feuilly shook his head, backing off towards the stairs before Courfeyrac became curious about the voice that had saved his life. HE swiped at his eyes, muttering to convince himself.

"Stupid rain…"_  
_

_Tears of hope run down my skin.  
Tears for you that will not dry...  
They magnify the one within,  
And let the outside slowly die...  
_

"'Ferre! Kira, she's!"

"I know, Feuilly…"

Combeferre halted Feuilly's frantic run by putting his hands on his shoulders. Feuilly's eyes were full of tears as he looked up at his bespectacled friend, and was surprised to see the slight redness in his brown eyes as well. He blinked his eyes, and then scrubbed at them.

"She came to you too?" Combeferre nodded, and Feuilly just sighed, but there was a faint smile on his face. "I was surprised, of course. I mean, I thought I was dreaming…I know she's dead, but then I heard her voice, and…"

"Don't start hoping, Feuilly: she isn't back, it's a one night thing, I know she told you."

"Yeah, she did." Feuilly smiled somberly and Combeferre removed his arms. "But…maybe, if she does indeed see Nicolas…maybe…just maybe he can finally break free from his silence."

"It would be a relief, after a whole year…" Combeferre sighed, shaking his head. "Anyway, she said she won't go see him. But I will; I have a feeling that he's back in that room again, probably not crying: I've yet to see him do that this whole time. Guess that can't be said for me." He added bitterly as he headed off down the hallway toward the room Kira and Courfeyrac had once shared. Feuilly just shook his head sadly, heading the opposite way towards the stairs that lead to the roof.

Courfeyrac was curled up on the large four poster bed that was once Kira's, a replica of the one that had been her parents' so many years before. He buried his head in his folded arms, forcing himself not to think, not to remember…no, he never wanted to remember that day. He wished for the whole year that had passed the same thing, but to no avail: indeed, it was the only thing he could think about. Any moment of the day, his mind was not far from it, from the awful truth of the death of his beloved wife…he buried his head deeper, willing himself to stop thinking. He couldn't show anything, couldn't let them see his sadness, his guilt. It would only burden them more, he didn't want to be a burden, he only wanted….

A thump, the sound of muffled curses, and then a deep sigh startled him from his thoughts. He looked up, and his heart quite literally stopped beating for a second when he saw the figure crouched in the middle of the room. The person gasped, stepping back towards the balcony doors.

"C-Courfeyrac?"

He blinked, just gaping, completely frozen. The figure back off further, saying shakily.

"Um, I'll just be leaving…um…"

HE suddenly leapt from the bed, darting across the room and throwing his arms around the angelic figure of his wife. Kira froze, then sighed mournfully.

"Courfeyrac, I-I'm not back. Seriously, I was just trying to leave…"

He shook his head mutely, burying his head into her shoulder and breathing in deeply. She sighed again, muttering in somewhat annoyance.

"It's help if you talked, dear. It-it's killing me, seeing you like this."

She felt him wince, and then he surprised her by omitting a small, hoarse whisper.

"I'm sorry…"

She pulled back, staring at him with an open mouth as he just bowed his head, but she could see sorrowful grey eyes peering up at her through his black bangs. She scowled.

"You are not allowed to apologize, Nicolas Courfeyrac. Absolutely not: none of this was because of you. It's my own stupidity that led to this, not yours."

He opened his mouth to argue, but then just shut it and shook his head firmly. Kira groaned in exasperation, staring at her forlorn husband.

"I can't leave you like this, Courfeyrac, but…I have no choice. I must leave, in fact…" she glanced up at the small clock on the wall and swore vehemently. "Now! I have to leave, Courfeyrac…damn it all…" she gazed at him sadly before turning and opening the door to the balcony, letting in a draft of cold air. Courfeyrac was frozen for a second, but he then grabbed her arm as she attempted to walk out. She stopped, then sighed and turned slightly.

"Courfeyrac, I have to leave. My time here has run out: I'm sorry…" she whispered mournfully. "I don't want to leave. In all honesty, I wish I could just come back to stay, but I can't, and I absolutely will not let you guys make the same stupid mistake I did, alright?"

Courfeyrac just gripped her arm desperately, shaking his head furiously, causing her to groan again.

"Courfeyrac, I have to go. Id, I'm sorry…" she tugged her arm out sharply, and then darted forward, leaping smoothly onto the railing and prepared to take off, her angel's wings fluttering in readiness. Courfeyrac stumbled after her, reaching out, and she just stared down at him, smiling sadly.

"I'm sorry, Courfeyrac…this is goodbye…"

And then she leapt up into the starry night, her wings fluttering and carrying her off into the sky. Courfeyrac was left alone on the balcony, his grey eyes wide and filled with a sudden burst of emotion. He dropped to his knees…

And then he screamed. _  
_

_Oh, remember when it rained...  
I felt the ground and looked up high  
And called your name….  
_

Combeferre was just passing the room in his search for Courfeyrac when he heard the scream, a scream so sad that it was painful to hear, especially in such a familiar voice. He froze for a second before throwing open the door to the room and rushing inside. He glanced around furtively, and then saw the source of the now dying scream curled up on the balcony, the door to which was flung wide open, the curtains left fluttering madly in the cold wind. He rushed over to Courfeyrac's side, and was shocked to see tears streaming down his friend's abnormally pale cheeks, his thin shoulders shaking madly as he sobbed. He put his arms around him, pulling Courfeyrac to him just as Redweila stepped inot the room. He mouthed at her to close the door as he began rocking his crying friend gently, shushing him soothingly.

"What happened? She whispered, her burgundy eyes wide at the sight of Courfeyrac. Combeferre hesitated in telling her, but he didn't have to: Courfeyrac surprised them both by replying hoarsely.

"Kira…it…Kira…she…she was…wings…"

"Shh…" Combeferre soothed as Courfeyrac dissolved into broken tears. Redweila just gaped, staring at Combeferre.

"What's going on? What is he talking about?"

"Kira...she came back. As an angel."

Redweila paled, and Courfeyrac just choked, sobbing even more heavily as she whispered.

"How…why…she…" she shook her head, slumping onto the bed and burying her head in her hands. Combeferre bowed his head, hugging Courfeyrac close to him. Courfeyrac was crying, occasionally choking out a word or two in a broken voice that tore at Combeferre's heart, but at the same time he was just so glad to hear it once more. Redweila stayed mostly silent for a minute before she asked quietly.

"What happened? Wh-why did she come back?"

"She wanted to clear up some things. Wanted to make sure we're all alright…"

"Alright?" Redweila repeated, snorting. "Why the hell would we be alright?"

"Redweila…" Combeferre sighed mournfully, and Courfeyrac just made a small choked noise. Combeferre hushed him quietly. "It's alright, Courfeyrac, everything's going to be alright…"

"No it's n-not." Courfeyrac sobbed. "It'll n-n-never be alright…she…I…"

"Courfeyrac…Kira didn't want you to do this to yourself. You have to be strong…."

"Why did she come back then?" Redweila interjected. Combeferre didn't look up; he just sighed and replied.

"Because she had to know. But she never meant for him to see her…she didn't want to hurt him like this, to hurt him any more…."

"No, I…I wanted to see her…" Courfeyrac pushed away from Combeferre slightly, scrubbing at his eyes. "I-I did…"

"Look at you, Courfeyrac." Redweila retorted. "How can you say what she caused was good?"

"Because a-at least…at least I'm talking again. I…I understand, now…sort of…" he smiled, and although it was obviously strained and sorrowful, it was the first smile they had seen from him the entire year that had passed since that day in the field. Combeferre pulled him back into a tight embrace, rocking as tears alighted in his own eyes.

"You're alright…you're really alright…"

_Oh, Remember when it rained.  
In the water I remain…._

Courfeyrac shrugged, but more tears were building up in his eyes as he just stared at the dark night sky.

"I guess so."

_Running down….  
Running down…._


	4. Let Me Fall

**A/N: **This one's very different from my others. For one thing, it's from a 1st person POV, and also the fact that it focuses on an idea rather than event or events. IT's rather interesting.

No character 'til the end, though it's likely obvious who it is speaking if you've read that previous vignettes. Or Maybe not

**"Let Me Fall"**

_**Let me fall…  
Let me climb…  
There's a moment when fear  
And dreams must collide…**_

_February 23rd_

Someone once asked me what, at the time, I thought was the world stupidest question. It seemed to be so easy to answer, just one short sentence. I never gave it more thought until today, until it suddenly mattered. When I dreaded the reality that I must really make the unthinkable decision.

So when someone asked me one day back in about 1826 whether I would let someone kill themselves, I laughed. Truly, I did. I thought it was ridiculous. There was no excuse, no reason for such measures to be taken. Everything and anything could be helped, and there was always some way the person could be saved. That's what I thought back then. But now, I am not sure. Can there truly be a circumstance where letting someone go can be the right thing to do?__

Someone I am  
Is waiting for courage …  
The one I want,  
The one I will become  
Will catch me… 

I would never have even pondered this had I not read them. Not read the thoughts of someone who truly wanted to just end it all. To die. And to be honest, I was shaken. I, with all my logic, with all my philosophy, could never have seen this turn, this outcome, and this horror. It was too painful, and all I could think of was that time so long ago now, when I was asked what I would do. And I actually realized that I may have to make that decision, and, oh dear God, I did not want to make that decision. I didn't want to even read it once I started, but I kept going, and I kept thing, and I kept reasoning with myself that it was over, but all I could think was that he had truly just wanted to die, to fall away from it all, and that I may have had to make that decision, maybe when it was too late for even my words to reach him. I still can't shake that feeling, no matter how he seems to be feeling for the better. Because I know it is likely he could just be fooling us all, and one day, he will just slip away…._  
_

_**So let me fall  
If I must fall  
I won't heed your warnings  
I won't hear them **__  
_

_March 2__nd_

It still nags at me. I cannot get that feeling to go away, the feeling of helplessness, of for once in my life not knowing. I have never been so uncertain, and been unable to really make a decision. But then again, how is one to make a decision about something such as this? How can I just say "Fine, do it, kill yourself." I can't. I just can't.

_March 12__th_

He has left, going on some sort of mission to try and restore the only thing that could make him happy again. This should make me feel more relieved, but I cannot help but feel more anxious, now having so much time to myself, just to ponder over these questions in my mind. Every time I think I can say yes or no, I keep finding reasons to spring me back into uncertainty, to bring me back exactly where I started. How can I say no, and yet, as a friend, how can let him live like this, when indeed he believes there is nothing to live for? Is it selfish for me to want him not to die just because of me?

_  
__**Let me fall,  
If I fall…  
Though the phoenix may  
Or may not rise…  
I will dance so freely,  
Holding on to no one ….  
You can hold me only  
If you too will fall…  
Away from all these  
Useless fears and chains…**__._

_May 16__th_

I have finally had to talk with my fiancée, who has gotten worried with my rather uncharacteristic behavior as of late. She just snorted when I explained my fears and told me it is not selfish to want him to live. That he should just realize that he has reason to live, that he has friends and family who love, him, but I try to explain to her my fear that that may just not be enough anymore. She just shook her head and sighed at me, saying "if he's stupid enough to make that decision, then it's no fault of yours. It's not you letting him go; it's him letting himself go. Nothing you could say or do could stop him if he was truly in the mind to do it."

_May 17__th_

I've thought about what she said, and maybe she is right. Maybe the question isn't even relevant, maybe it's nothing I have to worry about. But what if it is? What if he asked me if he could, if he really wanted to…could I answer yes without feeling any sort of guilt? Or would I selfishly ask him to stay despite his wishes, despite his feeling? I don't know. I honestly don't know. And I want to know: I want to talk to him, to sort it out, to make sure there is no chance of any of this thought becoming relevant, that any crisis is over, but I cannot even do that a the moment. Leaving me stuck with a strangely quiet and empty feeling castle and the one thing that has always guided me but now only causes confusion: my mind.

_June 6__th_

I would never have remembered the significance of this day had my mind not been on so morbid a track. After all, if I think about it, I have already in a way answered my questions with my actions, when I let him go that day, without a fight, without praying and begging for him to come back. When I just gave up and went on doing as I was doing. Is that a sign of my selfishness, or perhaps coldness, that I can so coolly walk away with only the slightest infraction of my temperament, when others not even as close as I are brought to hysteria? Maybe I'm just cold, that I could let him go. Maybe it would happen again, that I would just walk away, and let him die if he must, and pretend I would not feel a thing. I've never thought of myself as cold until now, but how else can one describe it? When one lets emotions fly away for logic, it only makes sense that they gain a certain sense of coldness in their demeanor. But my fiancée just laughed when I imparted this with her: she thought I was being plain ridiculous, that my blow up over the information that started this whole fiasco only proves that I haven't lost all feeling, and my continued melancholy over this dilemma. She thinks I am being petty and that I shouldn't even think on it any longer. Perhaps she's right. Maybe I will try to forget all for this, though I doubt, alas, that it could ever work. I can never stop thinking….

_  
Someone I am  
Is waiting for my courage…  
The one I want,  
The one I will become  
Will catch me….  
So let me fall  
If I must fall….  
I won't heed your warnings ….  
I won't hear…._

August 11_th_

I really must stop this line of thinking. It is getting me into a dangerous set of mind, and my dear fiancée is getting terribly concerned by it. She nearly hit me across the face when I mused earlier, not knowing I was speaking aloud, what I would do should he actually do it. How would I survive here without him? I cannot even fathom a life without him, having been nigh separated since we were small children. But she, of course, thought this was intolerable and chastised me on my foolish thoughts, reminding me that she too had gone through losing one to this type of matter, and that I should know better from hearing of her past mistakes. Indeed, her request seems more than reasonable, but it is still a valid point to consider. I wonder if I too will be greatly changed, such as he had, by the loss of the one closest and most dear to me aside from her. I honestly don't know how I'd feel, and that is something entirely strange to me. I've always been one who had complete control over my thoughts and feelings, who has always been able to be cool and collected no matter what. Yet here I get shaken up over a little question, one that's not even that complicated. Or, it shouldn't be. Perhaps I do tend to dwell too much, to blow it out of proportion. I don't know. All I know is that I need to stop thinking about it. I will.

_September 12__th_

Looking back, I am surprised by my own thoughts. Honestly, now that I have broken away (for the most part) from any related train of thought, it seems my fears are foolish and my uncertainty irrelevant. It is highly unlikely anything more will come of that situation, and I will never need to truly ponder that ambiguous, unanswerable question ever again.

_Let me fall  
If I fall  
There's no reason  
To miss this one chance,  
This perfect moment  
Just let me fall…_

_June 6__th_

Another year, and looking back, I can see how ridiculous and selfish I really was. But now it is almost as if it were all a dream, a distant memory, with him being happier and actually being truly happy for once, and everything back to almost a sense of normalcy, as it were. It seems surrealistic, the words he wrote, the words I wrote…for now, I will once again forget that question. And I only hope never to ponder it again, to never have to face those fears. Because I will never let him fall.

~Etienne Louis Combeferre


End file.
